The access panel on the airtight door to exit the dining area was surprisingly working. A warning flashed across it, informing me that the starship was running on a short supply of backup power. However, it also betrayed that there was breathable air from this point onward.

I pressed my back to the wall before requesting the door to open. Air came gushing out, and I carefully peeked into it, expecting a surviving pirate to respond with laser fire. But there wasn’t a sign of life in the entire hall before me, which was eerie to say the least.

“Not good.” I considered stepping in, and memories from tactical VR games I had played in the past came rushing to me. If the pirate came out of any of those doors while I was here at the end of the hall, I’d be a sitting duck. For as much as my plasma welding torch looked like a handgun, it could barely function as a close-quarters weapon, let alone return fire.

I remained behind cover of the wall, and took one of the simpler devices out of the toolbox: a ten-foot pole with a claw at the end. It was essentially an industrial steel version of one of those grabby hand toys for kids.

With it, I carefully reached to the closest door to me — there were four, two on each side, and this one was to my left. I felt rather silly doing this, but if it kept me from getting shot, it didn’t matter how cartoony this strategy would look to an observer.

After about a minute of struggling, I managed to hit the release button and the door opened, with some more of the valuable oxygen leaking out... Not great, but compared to the prospective of getting shot by a pirate, it was nothing.

I made a dash for the room I had just opened, and scanned it as quickly as I could, even checking the wardrobe. I took a breath of relief, pulled my toolbox into this room with me, and used the pole to close the door to the exposed dining room. The place began filling up with breathable air once more, and my UI’s oxygen storage finally stopped ticking down.

“Thank the Lady in White...” It felt relieving to be off the clock for even a moment, although I wasn’t going to take my helmet off until I knew for sure the pirate who owned this ship was dead and gone. Otherwise, he could always open the dining room door behind my back and I’d die like a dumbass.

Furthermore... I hadn’t really been freed from the clock, just placed under a different clock, whose remaining time I couldn’t see. That was worse in a certain way.

“I guess that just means I’d better get to work.”

This room was a comfy living quarter. It looked factory new, which confirmed some of my suspicions from earlier. However, the bed wasn’t made and there were two sets of men’s clothes in the wardrobe, so this was likely to be where the pirate slept.

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I was hoping to find a weapon in the bedside table’s drawer, but I wasn’t that lucky. Just an electronic cigar, some strings and a paperclip; none of which I had any use for. Specially the string and the paperclips, why were those even there?

I peeked into the hallway and didn’t get shot this time either. I quickly moved into the next room, index tight over the welding torch’s trigger.

Uh... Well, this is a bit strange. This is also a fairly standard living quarter, but it’s been colored an intense pink shade. There’s plush toys all over the place...

“Oh, I know this one! I used to sleep with one of these.” I forgot about my dire situation for a moment to pick up one of them. It was a blue cat-robot thing with sly eyes and a lab coat. My mom bought it for me soon after I was born — perhaps she instinctively knew I was the type of kid who’d prefer something techy like this instead of an ever-so-standard teddy bear.

Good memories filled me, drawing a smile on my face as I squished the blue thing close. It responded with an oddly perfect, as if pre-recorded, squeaky noise.

“Right, it did use to do that.”

Giggling nostalgically, I put it down on the bed and looked around some more. The place became progressively eerier as I did. The dresser had all the sorts of things you’d expect a girl to have: a set of manicure stuff, perfume, hair brushes, make up, jewelry... But it was all still in the packaging, and every bottle was still sealed. Nobody had actually used any of these things.

“It’s like a dollhouse.” I said, turning back to the blue plushie. What was his name again...? ‘Pikita’? I laughed when I realized I felt compelled to take him with me.

“Fine, fine... I’ll come get you once I’m sure I’ll make it out of here alive.” I spoke to the plushie as if it had been the one pleading to come with me. I turned to the door and leaned against the wall, rubbing my chin.

A brand new, expensive starship. A simple room for the pirate captain, and a very girly room that nobody’s ever lived in...

“Was he moving in with his daughter?” I proposed skeptically.

It was hard for the average person to see pirates as people, and I was no exception to that. It had to be this way, since news of their crueler crimes spread like wildfire through international space, and sometimes it really seemed like all of them were fighting for a record on who could do the most inhumane shit possible.

However, a part of me really wanted to picture an old man turning to a life of crime to pay for her daughter’s studies or to cure her from a rare disease, and returning to be with her after finally gathering enough money to give her a safe and comfortable place to live.

“But... why not just become a mercenary, then?” I discarded my theory, knowing my second answer was almost surely the correct one. After all, this whole setup neatly matched the setting of a few VR games I had tried, where you’d “train” a defenseless young woman into a “perfect” bride.

With an unclean feeling washing through me as I pictured that situation happening in real life, I peeked to both sides and valiantly took a step down the hall.

There were two rooms left, and then there was the final door toward the storage compartment. The generator would be behind one of these.